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ah, Summer Saturday mornings… when you stumble out of bed and wander into the rest of the house trying to remember what day it is, what time it is, and whether that thing you have to do is today or tomorrow. You manage to get the coffee going (how many scoops was that?) and go looking for the pancake fixin’s while stepping on squeaky toys and impossibly sharp Legos with bare feet.

And as you rub the sleep out of your eyes to the smell of brewing coffee and grilling pancakes your lazy husband, DorkDaddy finally drags his ass out of bed. Does he come over and help get breakfast going? No. Does he thank you for letting him go out with his buddy last night for beers, burgers and MAN OF STEEL while you were left to get all three kids to bed on your own? No. What does he do first thing? He sits down in front of the freakin’ computer.

Why? What on Earth? The kids need attention. The house needs attention. Just as you are about to head over there and give DorkDaddy a piece of your mind he suddenly stands up from the computer and yells,

“DANCE PARTY!!!!”

And right there and then, first thing on Saturday morning, still with bed-head, or sleep-face, or boxer shorts, or pajamas, or whatever, the DorkFamily gets their groove-thing on right there in the living room, in front of the big bay window with no curtains, for the entire neighborhood to see.

It’s Saturday morning, people. Turn up the volume on your computer and share in some of our favorite indulgences.

The creepy creepy thing is that “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” is playing on my computer as I read this.
For the record, I might have cussed you. Then again, getting up at 5 AM every live-long day of my life makes me bitchy.